Sentient
by tsaralondes
Summary: Muse: "Matthew isn't just an ordinary doll," she started slowly, straightening the little black shirt. "He has feelings. And sometimes he tries to communicate."
1. Chapter 1

**Christmas Eve Day**

**Dominic at age nine**

The party at his uncle's house wasn't exactly fun or exciting; the relatives were extremely religious, albeit nice, so most of the celebration revolved around praising Jesus. Since his Uncle didn't believe in gift-giving ("Santa might have bottomless pockets, but we don't") and his cousins were not receiving any gifts, it was decidedly unfair for anyone in the family to exchange them in front of those kids; therefore, the family had simply done away with buying gifts for one another. Dom didn't mind since he still got an abundance from his parents on Christmas morning, but he thought it was all a bit weird.

The white leather couch was extremely plush, and Dom sank down into the cushions with his knees ending up higher than his bottom. The tree was lit up but undecorated aside from an angel at the top, a fire was burning in the fireplace to his right, and his little cousins were playing very loudly on the floor as the adults chatted and laughed around the house. Dom put his elbow on the arm of the chair and supported his blonde head with his hand, fingers splayed around his eyes and nose. He watched his cousins boredly.

Just as the youngest child looked about to engage Dom in conversation, Grandma entered through the arched doorway to his left. She had thick curls that looked quite unnaturally brown, and it reminded Dom of a clown. Her smile was always huge and genuine when she talked to Dom.

"You look like you're having fun, Dominic!" she remarked through sympathetically amused laughter.

Dom smiled politely and shrugged, unsure of how to respond; Grandma was very close to the hosts of the party, her son being one of them, so admitting to boredom might be insulting.

"Well," she continued, leaning closer and lowering her voice, "I have a little something to give you before you leave, but it's going to be our secret. You mustn't even tell mummy or daddy."

She stood up straight and gestured for Dom to follow her into the computer room. With some deal of strength, he fought his way out of the sinking couch seat and trotted behind.

Only muffled voices and music could be heard from inside the small room after Grandma closed the door. Dom stood awkwardly as she placed her purse down on the computer table to open it up, reaching in to produce what looked like a ceramic doll. It wasn't normal, though. It was frightening. The doll was much too realistic- 'uncanny valley' popped into Dom's mind as Mummy had used the term recently- and it wasn't a pretty girl like most ceramic dolls. Instead, it was a man of about twenty with black hair, blue eyes, thin lips and a uniquely crooked nose that added to the realism and general scariness. The proportions were actually correct, which Dom, being nine, didn't notice directly, but it creeped him out nonetheless. The doll wore a plain black, long sleeved shirt with matching pants, and its skin was flawless and milky white.

"W-what is that?", Dom asked with a surge of panic, taking an unconscious step back.

Grandma smiled warmly at it before looking up at Dom. "Don't be frightened", she urged happily, "this is Matthew. I need you to take good care of him for me. I've had him since I was a little girl, and my mother had him since she was a little girl, but your daddy was always so afraid of him! So you mustn't tell your mummy or daddy that I've given him to you." She extended the doll toward Dominic.

"No," he replied automatically, his grey eyes wide with terror. "Why is daddy scared of it?"

Grandma paused to consider this. "Matthew isn't just an ordinary doll," she started slowly, straightening the little black shirt. "He has feelings"- pausing to assess Dominic's reaction- "...and sometimes he tries to communicate. You can tell looking at him that he's a sweetheart, nothing in those eyes to be afraid of, but your daddy was always the panicky sort!" She laughed loudly, then set her face into a very serious expression. "Now, Dominic, I need you to take Matthew and promise to take good care of him until you can pass him on to your own children. Can you do that for Grandma?"

Dom stood frozen in place, staring at the way-too-realistic-doll-with-feelings that he was being expected to take home with him.

"Yes, I can do that," he heard himself saying hesitantly. The nine year old boy's curiosity and sense of wonder overrode the fear.

Grandma extended the doll toward him once again, and this time Dom took it. Its- his- body was made of soft fabric, the ceramic only starting from the neck up and the elbows and knees down. As Dom cradled him close to his chest, he decided that Matthew wasn't very scary after all. He had a pretty face, just like the girl dolls, and he looked friendly.

"Put him in your backpack now and don't let your parents see him," instructed Grandma, "and try to talk to him when other people aren't around. I don't want you to let him get lonely, alright?"

"Alright."

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Please leave reviews (harsh or nice). I'm new to this. Hope you're liking it so far. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**December 2nd, 1911**

**Matthew Bellamy - age 21**

The entire vastness of England seemed to be covered in a single shadow cast by an enormous, grey blanket, stretching endlessly in every direction. A cold and drizzly wind blew damp strands of hair into Matthew's face, and he held his book with one elbow as he attempted to tuck the black locks behind his ears. As he struggled to peel a strand of sticky hair from between his lips, the gust increased tenfold. The young man scrambled when he felt the book begin to slip, bumping into a passing woman and muttering in apology just as he heard the splash. _Bollocks. It would land in a puddle._

Matthew turned against the wind to retrieve the book, the world around him darkening as if a candle had been blown out. Wind howled angrily and drizzle threatened to become rain. A bolt of lightning invoked a heightened sense of panic among formerly brave civilians and they began to dash for cover, forcing Matthew to stand protectively in front of the puddle as he hugged his thin body and braced himself against the storm. When it was safe to do so, he crouched down and reached his long fingers into the water, grimacing in disgust. A rumbling sound from the road caused Matthew to turn his head-in hindsight, probably a bad move-and he suddenly found himself soaked and dripping with mud. The automobile must have been traveling at full speed; no less than fifteen kilometers per hour. There was a reason Matthew hated those damned death traps.

Standing slowly, soggy book between the tips of his fingers and water covering every inch of his violently shaking form, he ducked his head against the wind and began his second attempt to trudge home. The rain was pounding so heavily now that it was difficult to see more than a few feet. Matthew felt an anxious knot forming in his stomach at the increasing bright flashes and loud rumbles from above.

A dark figure stood an indeterminable distance ahead, causing Matthew to stop abruptly in his tracks. Nothing but a black outline could be made out through the wall of water and the anxious knot was pulled tightly. The figure started to approach.

Matthew started to back up.

Into another person.

Before he could react, a gag was roughly shoved into his mouth and his hands were being wrenched painfully behind his back and tied with something course and stringy. The young man was overwhelmed with panic and instinctively began to kick and struggle, trying to scream through the thick fabric, for which he was rewarded with a powerful boot to the stomach. He doubled over in agony and was immediately wrenched back up by his soaking hair, face contorting in pain. Whimpering and choking through the gag earned him a hard blow to cheek bone. Though it stung unbearably he managed to suppress a yell. He felt his ankles being tied tightly before his feet were abruptly lifted, but instead of falling backward he was grasped under the arms by the man behind him. The men began to trudge through the darkness, roaring wind and violent rain, carrying a helpless Matthew who despite his best efforts began to cry hysterically, tiny body shaking in terror. He hadn't known it was possible to feel so scared.

He wouldn't get to say goodbye to Christopher.

No one would know what had happened to him.

The men entered an alleyway where the rain and wind were significantly lighter. Matthew tried to be grateful for small mercies.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews and criticism would be great. :)


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